Guard My Sleigh Tonight
by beachLEMON
Summary: Ministry of Magic's chief embassadors Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy are called to duty to help Santa Claus in the name of Christmas after the North Pole succumbs to an inevitable crisis. HermioneDraco. PG13.
1. Elf

**Prologue**

Hermione managed to find a feeling of sequestered security within the walls of her father's den that, conveniently and not surprisingly, had soundproof walls. The Granger women were notoriously boisterous.

Not that silence couldn't have been stirred to life by magic, but additionally, everyone knew to keep out of Adam Granger's den. It was sort of his sanctuary, sometimes his prison, but it was the only time he felt calm in a house full of relatives that were noisy and chaotic more often than not. Especially during the holidays.

She sighed, rearranging her paperwork in front of her, spreading and reorganizing it to her liking before a sense of warmth and laziness enveloped her, pausing her busy-bee ambition.

Hermione thought of how nicely the dark wood den contrasted to the hectic, tinsel-embroidered holiday decorating bonanza going on inside the house as she tapped the Ministry of Magic parchment logo with the tip of her dry quill.

Running a hand through her hair, she was just about to return to her case files when her telephone jingled in a high-pitched electronic tune.

"What do you want?" she immediately frowned, having glanced at the caller before flipping open the phone. "You promised me Christmas break off from you and that _includes_ calling me. _That_ was my bonus."

"Oh, shut up," the voice on the other end dismissed carelessly. "You really need a manual to finally remove that stick from your arse, don't you?"

"Oh, I don't know, if you could walk me through it, perhaps after I could find a nice _replacement_ home for it," Hermione retaliated, tapping her quill tip against the parchment furiously now, making visible dents.

"We have a situation," the voice reported, a bit solemnly, "and Lucas expects _us_ to take care of it."

"But I'm on my break," Hermione pouted, half to herself and half to the caller. "You did remind him that we have _lives_ aside from our jobs. _Vacations_ we _love_."

"Yes, I reminded him you were a selfish tight ass," the caller snapped, causing Hermione to drop her quill in annoyance. "But he said this was serious, and having read Lucas' owl, I completely agree."

"What is it? And make it fast; you're keeping me from oodles of jovial Christmas celebration," she sighed, leaning back against her chair as she closed the folder full of files marked 'work for home.'

"Hold on, then, I'll be right over."

"What? No," Hermione rushed to answer. "I'm at my parents' house. Plus—just don't come over. I can handle it over the phone."

There was a pause on the other end before the entire room flashed, followed by a resounding crack as a figure appeared in front of Hermione's desk, silhouetted against the light.

"Malfoy, goddamn it," she muttered, "I told you to tell me over the phone."

He smirked. "I know. Anyway," he continued, despite her growl, "Christmas seems to be in jeopardy this year and from the looks of your _jovial celebration_—" he looked around with an eyebrow raise, "—I can see how you will probably not be affected the least bit. But the Ministry's worried about the impact it'll have on the Muggle world, the Muggle kids, but importantly, the Wizarding world. It's—it's really quite phenomenal that this would even happen, I mean who knew…"

"Malfoy, what the hell are you talking about?"

He expelled a breath. "We just got an owl from up north for our monthly stat report and…"

"And?"

"And don't be too expectant of those presents under the tree this year," Draco raised his eyebrows in solemn resignation. "The elves are revolting against Santa Claus."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, followed by an eyebrow quirking in disbelieving shock. "_What?_"

- - - :) (: - - -

_Author's Note:_

I really, _really_ love this one. Stay tuned, kids.

Beach.


	2. Arrogance

**Chapter One**

"See?" Draco pulled up a seat. "I knew I'd have to break the news to your in person. And not for the sake of picking your jaw up off the floor."

Hermione promptly closed her mouth and glared at her co-worker. "Malfoy, I'm in no mood for your malarkey. I have…" she refrained from motioning to her take-home work, "…_things_ to do, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't barge in here with your Santa's-being-taken-over crap. I _have_ a life."

Draco bit his tongue. "Evidently."

"Shut up. And—oh yeah. Leaving would be good," Hermione replied irritably.

Draco simply raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Figures. You don't believe me, do you?"

"Hm. Do I believe that little four-foot-tall elves are banding together to take down Santa Claus which could be especially harmful to the Wizarding world?" Hermione paused, resting a finger on her chin. "I don't know; let me think about that."

The blond rolled his eyes. "Muggle."

"What?"

"I said, you're such a _Muggle_. It's like a disease or brainwashing, I swear."

"You're just set on giving me endless reasons for not sparing your life the day I become close friends with dictator of the free world and _badly_ need to dispose of annoyances as a birthday present," she muttered, picking up a mug of lukewarm coffee.

"I like a challenge," Draco replied, annoyed. "Here. You don't believe that we have this assignment, then you tell that to Lucas."

Hermione stared at the parchment her colleague had just dropped in front of her, the unfolded letter confirming all that Draco had told her down to a tee, adorned with the Ministry of Magic logo and Wendall Lucas' scribbled signature at the bottom.

"You can't be… I mean, Santa Claus isn't…" Her mouth dropped back open for the second time within a five-minute span.

"Real?" Draco nodded his head. "Do I get to say 'Muggle' again? Because I _feel_ like I do. I don't know if that's just me or—"

"You're not serious. I—I mean that's not _possible_. There is no Santa Claus; everybody knows that. It's… been scientifically proven," she stood up, sounding weak and unsure of herself by the end of her thought. "Right?"

"Wrong, grasshopper," Draco corrected, leaning back in his seat. "Woman sees one troll and thinks she knows all there is to know. Look, sit down and stop your pacing. You're in for a treat." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm a _great_ story-teller."

Furrowing her brows in irritation, Hermione grimaced at him but sat down nonetheless as she tried to stop her head from spinning off its axis like her world had just a moment ago.

"The reason that you're in such a shocked and nearly hyperventilating state right now, aside from being ignorant to something _I_ just happened to know more about—although that really shouldn't surprise you anymore, considering my genius and all—" He managed a tiny smile at her death glare as he redirected where he was going with his thought. "—Right, but aside from that, you grew up in the Muggle world where Santa's kind of a joke. A myth, an old tale, something to tell the kids while the grownups go and get pissed, content knowing the tots are safe, tucked away, and asleep. Wouldn't it just tie all those knickers in a twist if they found out they were wrong and there _is_ Santa Claus?"

He paused to revel in the chaotic and confused picture of people milling about aimlessly, as though their lives had lost their meaning simply because they'd been ignorant to the existence of Santa Claus. Much like Hermione was right now.

He looked to her to find her staring at him in disbelief and sheer amazement.

"I'll bet you're asking yourself how this could be possible," Draco speculated, continuing on at her silence. "It's simple, really. I can't believe no one has even told you yet. Honestly, Granger, I'm sort of shocked myself. So many years in the Wizarding world and you still think your _parents_ put those gifts under the Christmas tree."

"Because they _do_," Hermione defended incredulously as she watched Draco shake his head in condescending acknowledgment. "Of course they do. _I_ do it, too, for my baby cousins and nieces and nephews. What? You're telling me I'm crazy? That all the parents in the Muggle world are crazy? They _all_ buy gifts for their kids but there's still a Santa Claus?"

The blond simply stared at her, listening to her rationale. At her stark raise of eyebrows meant to jolt him out of his stupor, he simply grinned again. "I can't even begin to understand where you come up with these notions that have such conviction behind them. We were definitely raised differently, I can tell you that."

"Malfoy," Hermione snapped, leaning forward to rest her elbows against the desk.

"St. Nick exists, Granger, and you all that knew that once upon a time. A long, long, long, long—" He paused to smile at her annoyance, "—very long time ago, but then the lot of you had to get all ominous-feeling , like you can't believe in _anything_ that isn't right in front of your bloody nose to see. So a group of Muggles went up to the North Pole, found nothing, came back and told everyone and their grandmum that there isn't a Santa Claus." Draco sighed. "Got kind of contagious for a while there, too. Some Wizarding families started to question St. Nick's existence. That was such a load of bollocks, I'll tell you. Why you Muggles always have to spoil it for everyone, I don't know."

Hermione's eyes sparkled as she retained knew knowledge she had never known to be useful, let alone true. "But how don't people noticethat presents appear under their tree every year that they hadn't a thing to do with? I would think they'd be afraid, suspecting someone was in their houses…"

"That is precisely why Claus didn't let any of that poppycock happen," Draco scolded, shaking his head at Hermione. "He knew that had anything looked changed or moved in the house, the whole lot of you Muggles would stir about in your own muck, screaming burglary and whatnot, accusing people from the bloke on the street to the grandfather of breaking and entering." He rolled his eyes. "Bloody paranoid of you, if not _arrogant_, one might add."

"One might also shy away from the familiar topic of arrogance," Hermione suggested sweetly, before urging him to continue.

"So Claus just let you all believe what it is you wanted to believe. Or not believe, in this case. Not believing in him makes him… sort of phantom or invisible figure to the average Muggle. The adult will not see Santa Claus, nor have any recollection of him putting gifts under the tree. Instead, he'll remember what he believes would naturally happen—which, as I hear, is simply going to stores and _buying_ gifts for the kids followed by putting them under the tree." Draco grimaced. "Not very magical and happy. You people just _like_ to make yourselves live a torturous, unhappy life, don't you? Masochists."

"And… the people that _do_ believe in Santa Claus?" Hermione asked cautiously, completely disregarding his side-comments and opinions.

"They see him," the blond answered simply, yawning as he looked at the time on his watch. "The little Muggle tots want to believe in Claus, so if they stay up late enough to see him coming down the chimney or though the heater shaft--which they rarely do—they'll see him and gawk and stare; all that rot. He'll, of course, do that ho-ho-ho number he's famous for. The Muggles really love that. Personally, I asked him the mechanics of his workshops and exactly to what scale he measures that whole naughty or nice thing when he makes the Christmas list the first time I saw him. But if all that commercialized greeting card crap is your ticket…"

Hermione's eyes widened. "You've seen him?"

He looked at her as though she was completely daft. "Honestly, Granger, either you've recently had a lobotomy or you've just been really good at _faking_ retaining information from your classes all those years. You haven't listened to a thing I've said. I've seen him because I believe… because he _is_ real." He looked at her like she was crazy. "Actually, last year I didn't visit the family and caught Claus when he stopped by my place. We had quite the discussion about foreign policy. You know, you'd be amazed at how much insider information that bloke gets just delivering gifts, eh?"

"So…" Hermione processed as she stood up and walked around the desk, licking her lips, "Santa Claus exists."

"Already established," Draco grinned, standing up as well and motioning with his hands to the door leading upstairs to the festivities. "You might want to tell your people we're going out for a while."

"What?" Hermione asked, still dazed.

"Lucas wants us at the Ministry before we take off north," Draco explained, waiting for Hermione to grab her jacket and slowly stick her head out the door to make up an excuse plausible enough for her out-of-town relatives.

With a loud clap, Draco was gone, and Hermione stuck her head back inside the den. Expelling a breath, she shook her head and hoped with all her might that at least the Easter Bunny and Big Foot were a myth.


End file.
